


Peeping John

by CaptainRivaini



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/F, Gen, John is scarred for life, and waits for death to come, but she's going to look hot while doing it so win/win?, shaw is going to kill him with her bare hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3872752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainRivaini/pseuds/CaptainRivaini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“John what have I told you about hiding in closets? There is no time like the present you big lug,” Root says and pats his shoulder in a way that makes him want to shrivel up because he knows, oh he knows, that he is never going to live this down.</p><p>John finds himself stuck in Shaw's closet. It is a lot worse than it sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peeping John

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired entirely around this [here](https://vine.co/v/MTWrz0aMP5m) and i'm not a little bit sorry. like. at all.

John knew it was ridiculous, breaking and entering into Shaw’s new apartment like a common thief. But he can’t help it, not after everything they went through to get Shaw back, to see her with them again and really? It was a little short of a miracle that he held off for as long as possible in doing this, but right now his restraint was failing him and so here he was...

He makes sure to lock the door after him, just in case anyone comes in looking for Shaw. John has doubts on that, but he can never be too careful. After all, that lack of care was what had made him unable to stop Shaw from sacrificing herself to Samaritan in the first place and instead…

John refuses to linger on that thought any longer.

He has other things to look to doing, like setting up as many bugs as he can around Shaw’s sparse apartment in the more inconspicuous places around. John knows he’ll get found out sooner or later, and more than likely Shaw will destroy them with a huff at not needing to be protected – and he knows that, truly he does.

But being selfless most of the time is hard, John reckons a little break from it to make sure Shaw is safe couldn’t hurt, _right?_

Besides, he’ll leave before Shaw arrives (obviously), so there was no reason to believe his dignity was to be lost immediately when Shaw did find out about the bugs and proceed to kick his ass. It is this thought process that makes John relax, which was arguably, he realises later on, was his second mistake.

The _first_ being he had stepped inside Sameen Shaw’s apartment without her permission in the first place.

John was about to place his last and final bug in the collar of one of Shaw’s many leather jackets when he heard footsteps, instantly sending a shiver that a trained assassin should not feel, he reasons, but of course not many trained assassins had a mayhem twin that went by the name of Sameen Shaw.

“Shit,” he curses in the same moderate tone as always, looking for possible exit routes outside that did not include scaling down the very tall apartment building to the bustling streets of New York below. When he finds none John curses again, a sweat of desperation now staining his brow and makes his shirt cling to his back.

He wonders for half a second if dying scaling a building would be worth it more than Shaw finding him in her apartment without her permission. John concludes that he actually does not want to find out and bolts into the barest closet he has ever seen, thanking whatever entity out there that it’s wider than expected and he can fully fit himself into the cramped space.

John hears a key in the lock and slams the closet door closed, sucking in his breath and eyes darting wildly to the left and right. This is practically the most useless he has ever felt, or at least it feels that way until he hears Shaw’s apartment door open and a pair of feet walk inside.

And then to John’s horror, another pair soon follows behind her, practically mischievous in their long strides across Shaw’s tiled flooring.

“What are we doing here _Sameen?_ ” John silently groans, great. Just great. If Root was here and talking in _that_ tone of voice…

Maybe Shaw will prove him wrong, or maybe they are here to genuinely do something that does not relate to sexual activities. Maybe they’ll just watch a movie (John ignores the fact he did not see a TV on the way inside) or shoot guns at passing birds, or…or…eat together, maybe…

John hasn’t prayed for a while, not since he was a teenager and he was dragged to church by the lobe of his ear. But right now? This is an exception.

His prayer leaves his lips too late to stop the breathy response from Shaw.

“You promised me there would be bad guys to shoot, Root.”

“I _did_ promise that, yes. I also promised that if there was a very unlikely chance there wouldn’t be any to shoot that I would try my very _hardest_ to make it up to you.” Root replies with that lilt of absolute delight in her voice, enough to make John wonder if she’s been practicing this whole interaction with Shaw since the moment they had finished on the latest number.

He hears a scuffle and before John can try to figure out what the hell is going on out there, the closet door hits against his face as the weight of his two companions press against the wooden doors with a force that momentarily stuns him. The blow is so unexpected John surprises himself in not gasping with pain, but the noises that follow afterwards are more than enough to make him wish that the pain had been so momentous it _had_ knocked him out.

“Root,” Shaw growls the hacker’s name, a warning that John hopes against hope will lead to them hashing this out somewhere far away from his hiding place. Texas, maybe.

The closet creaks and John winces, hearing Root’s simpering voice come through the very thin walls of the closet.

“Now now Sam, I’m trying my best to make it up to you.”

John mouths ‘stop’ in the vain hope that they’ll do just that. He knows it is hopeless the moment he hears Shaw groan and Root’s breathy murmurs and instantly feels himself tensing, even lets out an inward scream for help that he knows nobody will hear.

This was not what was intended for today, not at all. John just wants to go home and throw himself in a bath of bleach, anything to forget the sound of what Shaw and Root sound like when they get each other naked.

John kicks that thought of out of his head. This was getting as weird as a Game of Thrones episode (he really regrets trying to marathon it with Harper that one time she had got him drunk) and John refuses to participate in this any longer.

If he is unable to get out of the closet because Root and Shaw are too busy having sex, it looks like he’ll have to cause a distraction of his own to make them stop.

He at least waits for the two of them to move (and hates he needs to pay attention for this part of his plan to work) before smacking his earwig, connecting it to the nearest caller that could possibly bail him out of this sticky situation his managed to land himself in.

“Mr Reese?” Harold’s voice sends a warm wave of relief through John and if anyone asks him right now what his reaction would be if Harold was in front of him, John’s pretty sure he would marry the man on the spot. “Mr Reese is everything alright?”

“Harold!” John makes sure to whisper his relief, knowing very well the consequences if his heard by the two of them, not that they’re particularly quiet or anything, but regardless. “I need your help, I’m in a life or death situation and I…”

He steels himself. “I need you to get me out of Shaw’s apartment without being seen.”

“John…?”

“I was planting bugs in her apartment when she showed up with Root,” John explains quickly, growing more and more conscious of the fact he may be slowly losing himself to desperation on the thought of getting found out by the two lovebirds outside of this closet. “Finch, I know you told me not to but, Shaw-“

“I’m sorry John but I can’t help you with this,” Harold interrupts and straightaway John mutters heatedly under his breath at Harold’s good nature. That and his love for teaching lessons, which is what John guesses is going to be taught to him straight away about not breaking into other people’s apartments to plant bugs there. “I warned you that Ms Shaw would not take kindly to doing such a thing, and while I am aware of your concern, I also told you that it would be unwise to take it further than just making sure Sameen gets home perfectly alright. And besides the fact this mistake of yours will surely be a lesson learnt, I have a dinner date I cannot miss. If you truly require assistance I would suggest Detective Fusco for help, or perhaps Ms Harper.”

Before John can protest the line goes dead. It leaves him once more with noises outside of the closet that he really does not want to hear, yet at the same time it also makes John ponder if strangling himself to _unconsciousness_ was really impossible to do with your hands. Strange how these things worked.

Nevertheless he hits his earwig again, urgently waiting for Lionel Fusco to pick up and get him out of here.

“You took your sweet time!” John says breathlessly after a minute of him waiting endlessly for Fusco to pick up.

“Nice to see you too partner,” Fusco replies with about as much enthusiasm as John feels at hearing his practical sister and sister-in-law having sex a few feet away from him. “Guess what? Whatever you’re going to ask me to do, can’t do it. I’ve got to take Lee to his hockey game and I’m already running five minutes late!”

“Lionel this is urgent-“

Fusco interrupts John before he can finish. “Go ask Calamity Jane! I’m coming Lee, wait by the car!”

John sighs heavily as he once again is cut short by his friends in his time of need. And yes, maybe it is his own fault, but…

He recalls the last thing Fusco said before he hung up in order to put all his focus onto his next plan of action, pleased with himself that he was able to semi-ignore Shaw’s and Root’s argument on which one of them was to use the strap on first in so he could focus on his escape. Surely his last option was not an actual option at all, and if his truthful with himself John knows that calling this person could lead to many, many variables – with _all_ of them being humiliating.

Still it is his last hope of escape. It is either this or he is brutally tortured by the sounds that he wants to purge from his thoughts. John knows which one is worse, he does not even try to kid himself on that one.

It takes a few moments longer than Fusco picking up, long enough that John unfortunately has to hear another painfully aroused moan before a voice fills his ear, blissfully robbing him of any other sound outside of the closet.

“Hi surly and mean, what’s up?” Harper Rose replies as attentive and sickly sweet as ever. John swears she practices just to frustrate him, however as of now he is too frantic to get out of this damn closet to even care.

Either way he has to steel himself for what he says next because frankly, admitting anything other than success was much too embarrassing to even contemplate.

“I need help.”

“Don’t we all, babe.” Harper says and her response is enough to make John grit his teeth and count to ten and then back down again, impatient.

He presses his head against the back of the closet and lets out a frustrated breath of air. “Harper, I’m stuck in a closet.”

The coo he receives is not what John wants, nor needs. “Well _I_ could have told you that, but it’s good to know you’re learning something new every day.”

“Harper!” He murmurs angrily, careful to keep his noise down as best as he can but Harper brings the absolute worst in him, and really he blames the Machine entirely for recruiting her in the first place.

“I’m seriously proud of you my tall drink of darkness, go-“

“I’m in Shaw’s closet. I’m stuck in Shaw’s closet with Root and her outside and I can’t get out. Now please,” John takes a deep breath in order to calm himself, but not from anger any longer, oh no. The desperation is making him sweat even harder than before and he feels way too hot in this closet, practically drowning in his own body fluids as the thoughts of what Shaw will do to him if Harper does not rescue from this hell. “ _Please_ could you consider coming and helping me out of it?”

Laughter rings so loudly in John’s ears that he has to turn the volume down on his line to Harper, eyes threatening to roll into the back of his head. He waits and waits for what feels like years (again trying to ignore the sounds going on outside and Shaw’s persistence at trying to gag Root to the best of her ability) until he feels it’s safe to turn the volume back up.

“You done?” He asks, petulant.

“Stop _rushing_ me,” Harper manages to get out through giggles and snorts that only lead to John feeling his ears heat up in mortification. She continues for another few minutes before she sighs, no doubt wiping a lone tear away from the corner of her eye. “Okay, I’m done. So what, you want me to come distract the two lovebirds to give you a quick escape?”

“Please,” John pleas, hating how utterly desperate he sounds.

Harper laughs again, then proceeds to hang up in such a haughty fashion that John has to bite his knuckle in order to not scream loudly in protest. If there is ONE person he is definitely not forgiving for leaving him here, it’s Harper. His last hope, and now it’s gone and John has no choice, no damn choice but to…

John realizes that the room has gone quiet and feels as though he is 5 seconds away from vomiting. It’s too late, he guesses, the silence is piercing and it feels as though hands are around his neck and cutting off his air with an almighty pressure. It’s ironic really, because he is pretty sure those metaphorical hands are going to turn into real ones when Shaw discovers that his been here the _whole_ time.

She _is_ going to kill him. The silence confirms that, and so John waits for death because there is no other option now that his last hope has forsaken him. He hopes that Finch will have enough sense not to invite Harper to his funeral, not after this betrayal.

His ears prick up slightly at the sound of movement, and then…

“It’s alright Lurch,” Root says sweetly, her tone oozing nothing but innocence as she presses against the closet door John has been hiding in for the past half hour. “You can come out now, Shaw’s fast asleep and She tells me the immediate chance of death _has_ lowered, drastically actually.”

John smacks his head so hard that he can feel his whole brain rattle in protest, and of course it is this reason he puts the blame on for not understanding fully what the hell has just happened. Such as why Root is standing outside of this closet he is trapped in, and why is she acting like she knew all along he was trapped in there?

When she opens the closet doors with a lecherous grin John figures out the answer in seconds, turning beet red and sending silent demands to the ground to swallow him whole so he will not have to face the smirking hacker any longer.

He steps out of the closet and fixes his eyes on the peeling wall behind Root’s shoulder, pointedly ignoring the loud snores that escape Shaw’s mouth and the condescending smirk that Root keeps throwing his way.

“John what have I told you about hiding in closets? There is no time like the present you big lug,” Root says and pats his shoulder in a way that makes him want to shrivel up because he knows, oh he knows, that he is never going to live this down. Not only is he now aware that Root knew he was here the whole time (why did he not consider the Machine possibly telling her?) but there is also the fact that Root now has…

John winces and stares harder at the wall. _Blackmail material_.

“You can’t tell Shaw,” he says, damning the consequences because the little pride he has left has now been diminished under Root’s gaze, practically taunting him with her little squint of amusement thrown in his direction.

“Tell Sameen what, John?” Root looks practically impish as she continues to talk, practical red horns and a spiked tail coming to lavish around her body. “That I found you her closet while we were together, oh John. Why would I do that?”

John doesn’t think he can be at fault for wanting to run away as fast as possible when he hears the voice Root is using, the same one that she had used before Samaritan had even existed, before all this turmoil…

He doesn’t think when he pleas once more, “please…” But then, after his brain has caught up with him to explain that he is not dead yes, and he can still remain that way if he plays his cards right, John stands up that little straighter, no longer feeling so embarrassed.

“I’m pretty confident on how Shaw would feel about knowing I was in her closet the whole time,” John finally moves his gaze from the wall, a self-assured quirk of his lips enough to make Root pause. “But I’m not so sure how she would feel knowing that you _knew_ the entire time and didn’t say a word.”

John’s smile grows as Root’s eyes widen and for once he feels absolutely ensured that something will actually go right for him today. He just needs to make sure he can get to Harold and Harper before Root or Shaw does. 

Easy.

**Author's Note:**

> root: u wouldn't  
> john: wouldn't i???!!!?  
> root: ;/  
> john: checkmate


End file.
